Fear

I’m hunched over in the bathroom, my throat is dry, I just snorted water down the wrong tube, and I’m having a coughing attack.

Fear has been trying to take over for the past few performances.

The first one was OK. Nothing spectacular. I was a little wooden. But at least I didn’t forget my lines.

There are a handful of people in the audience. I’m in a small town in the middle of the Prairies doing a performance of my solo show Swimming with Piranhas.

I haven’t been on stage in three years. And the only reason I’m doing this is because the fear had been building, and I needed to take care of it.

I could feel it as each year passed, the fear growing and growing.

I’ve been performing since I was a kid. My favourite thing about taking piano lessons was the performances. I remember winning my first piano competition when I was six or seven years old. But it wasn’t the winning that was the fun part—that was a surprise. It was the feeling of performing. Sweeping up to the piano, setting the tone of the performance, and then banging out a tune—all eyes on me.

Every time I did a performance, I would enter a flow state. Time and space would disappear. It was just me in a vortex doing something I was born to do.

Performing felt like it was part of my DNA.

But then…things happened.

Middle school—the first time I encountered mean and crazy people. High school—more mean and crazy people.

And then acting school, and acting conservatories, and the weirdness of the “industry.” And at some point my brain did something to that beautiful world of performance and twisted it.

Fear became a new layer that I had to deal with when performing.

What do you do when something you love deeply becomes wrapped in fear? You have no choice. You have to face the fears.

So that’s why I’m in the bathroom, having a cough attack, minutes before I’m supposed to be on stage.

And then something happens.

The music shifts—I have ten seconds to get on stage.

I pull myself together, hack out the last cough, and dash onto the stage ten seconds after my cue.

I stand downstage center, staring at the audience. There are two women near the front. I make eye contact. The first line comes out of my mouth.

And then…I deliver the best performance of my life to ten people in a tiny theatre in the middle of nowhere. The flow state IS BACK!

The fear is there, but it has alchemized into energy.

The audience is receptive—it’s a Friday, always the best day for a great energy loop with your audience. And I stay in that electrifying pocket of deep, energizing presence for the entire show.

Fuck yeah!

I haven’t been on stage since that theatre festival. It was 2019. It’s now 2023. But the fear around performance is gone. It feels like it’s gone. Maybe I’m wrong. But when I think about getting back on stage, I don’t feel terrified.

Something else has come in and grabbed the fear. An old dream that won’t let go. Won’t disappear.

Making a movie.

One of my deepest desires is to have the experience of making a narrative feature film. I want to know what it’s like to build a story with moving images that can hold an audience captive for 90 minutes. It seems like the ultimate challenge, both technically and artistically.

I’ve wanted to make movies since I was a teenager. And now, I finally have the skills and resources, but FEAR has moved in.

Fear has bought a 6-acre lot in my psyche and is starting to plant vines.

Fear says, “You can’t do it. You can’t make a movie. It’s going to be terrible. You won’t even finish the shoot. You won’t get it in the can. You won’t get anyone on board. Your story is going to suck. You won’t be able to finish the ending. Your ending will be terrible.”

Fear is not entirely wrong.

It’s entirely possible the movie I make will be terrible. It’s possible that nobody will watch it. And maybe I won’t finish the shoot. And the story might suck.

BUT, so what?

What if Fear IS wrong…what if the movie isn’t terrible, and the story doesn’t suck. What if I can do it, and I do get it in the can?

What is the most exciting and terrifying dream you have right now?

That’s the thing you need to do. Terror mixed with excitement is the soul calling to you—telling you that if you do this, you’ll grow. You’ll grow into the stronger, deeper, more courageous version of yourself. You’ll peel away a layer of fear and underneath…you’ll find…YOU.

The YOU that’s always been there. The more expansive, free, and alive YOU.

We don’t grow by staying in the same spot—doing the same things.

If you’ve mastered something, you have no fear, and you’re entirely comfortable, you’re not growing. And if you’re not growing, you’re dying.

So, is it time for me to face my fears…again?

I guess it is.

There are three main things that both excite and terrify me right now.

1) Making a feature film.
2) Growing my business to $1M/year.
3) Building a house.

But making a feature is by far the biggest, most consuming fear and the one that’s been rocking my soul for the longest.

What will it take to overcome this fear?

The same old thing. Do the thing. Just do the thing.

Take one step. Feel the fear. Take another step. Feel the fear. And keep going until the fear is gone and I’ve reached the finish line.

-Colette Nichol-